


Hardest Decisions

by thunderbird_dragon



Category: Thunderbirds, thunderbirds are go
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 23:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20956472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderbird_dragon/pseuds/thunderbird_dragon
Summary: TOS - Jeff has to make the decision if Gordon is ready to join International Rescue after the delay caused by his accident.  But his choice will impact on the safety of more than one of his sons.





	Hardest Decisions

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write in TOS these days but then it's still Thunderbirds and the characters are so similar :-)

Hardest Decisions  
This was one of the hardest decision he had yet to make, International Rescue was barely a year old and he wasn’t sure he could take the strain already.  
Jeff Tracy had spent too long, helplessly watching his second youngest drag himself back to health, hauling himself upright after an accident that, to all intents and purposes, should have left him paralysed. But Gordon was as determined as any of his boys, there was no doubting that! Now he stood in front of Jeff asking, if not now, when?  
“Sorry, son, I just don’t think you’re ready yet!”  
Gordon turned away, angry beyond anything he’d felt in months. This one was personal, this one was where Gordon should start. He wanted to kick out at something, anything!  
Lee went to speak, but Jeff put up his hand, this was a family matter, he’d have to deal with it himself. “Give it just a bit longer, Gordon. You’ve still got a ways to go.”  
“And what about the Wayfarer Dad?” Gordon turned back, a face like thunder. “Can her crew wait a bit longer?”  
The Wayfarer was a WASP surface ship. John had received a distress call over an hour before, but WASP said they had it covered, only to call again to say they couldn’t get there and was International Rescue able to help them. In that hour, the Wayfarer had sunk in over 4000ft of Artic water, trapping 18 of the crew and leaving the rest bobbing in the freezing waters, 2 hours from any conventional rescue. How long did she have? No time at all.  
“I served on that ship, Dad, you know I did. It was my home for nearly a year, some of the crew are just as close to me as I am to my brothers here!” Gordon waved a hand at Scott and Virgil, who likewise, stood by helpless to get their father to see that they needed Gordon on this one.  
“Dad, Gordon’s the only one trained for that depth!” Scott tried again.  
Jeff was shaking his head, the strain showing visibly. He’d nearly lost this son once already, he wasn’t ready to risk that again yet, he just wasn’t. But Gordon could feel that final blow, sharp on his tongue, a gift from what Scott had just said. He didn’t want to hurt his father, that was the last thing he wanted, but it had to be said.  
“Dad,” he spoke quietly, the point needed no force behind it, “I qualified for that depth on the Wayfarer.” He waited then added, “Dad, I owe her.”  
Jeff sighed, he knew he had to let Gordon go, he was outnumbered and now that the boys Grandma had come to watch over this one-sided debate, he knew he had no chance of winning it.  
“I'm not sure you have time to stand and talk about it, son?” Was all she added.  
Gritting his teeth, Jeff shook his head, then, turning fiercely to Scott, he barked, “You go down with him and look out for him! Do you understand me?”

Virgil dropped the pod before beginning the operation of gathering the surface casualties safely in.  
As Four hit the water, Scott watched his brother work, he’d never had the chance before as their two service careers had been so different edges of the same sword, the sky to the sea.  
But Scott had been given training on the new Thunderbird, this little yellow submersible, and found Four difficult to handle, especially in a straight line! It was no fighter jet that was for sure. Scott thought the damned thing had a mind of its own, yet Gordon seemed to have every nuance of Four’s difficult little character under control. It soared for him and together they were amazing.  
“How do you get it to do that?”  
“What?” Gordon grinned at him. He knew! He knew full well! He’d seen Scott training. “She just likes me!”  
“Just as well, none of the rest of us wanted it!”  
“Her, Scott! Her!” Gordon did 'offended' so well, “You have to show her a little respect, that’s where you start to go wrong with her. She’s a proper lady, needs your full attention! Not like your dumb jets – point ‘em at the sky and let speed do the job for you!” There had always been that sibling/services rivalry between the two of them, they enjoyed the banter of who was best, who had the best craft, who did the most, who was the most qualified – _and most important of all_ \- which was best, Airforce or WASP. It was never-ending and it separated them slightly from their brothers who had seen no active service before International Rescue. A shared experience.  
Scott flicked the back of his brother’s head.  
“Hey, you’re supposed to be looking out for me, not knocking me about, Fly-crap!”  
Scott flicked again, harder, “WASP-brat!”  
“Can you two pipe down!” John’s voice interrupted. “We’ve re-established comms with those trapped inside, I’m sending you a list of those crew members, do you recognise any of them, Gordon?”  
Scanning them quickly, Gordon replied, “Nope, I didn’t serve with any of them!”  
“Good to hear, Dad’s having conniptions that someone will know you and our anonymity will be lost!” John smiled, “I’ll let him know!”  
They approached the stricken ship, she was lying on her side in a cloud of disturbed particles from the sea bed.  
John continued, “The crew tell me that they are in the forward torpedo lockers, it’s still water and airtight at the moment - I’ve pulled up a schematic for you.”  
“It's okay, John, I remember where that is, port or starboard?”  
John already knew the answer, “Starboard.”  
“She’s lying on that side, John, it could be tricky,” Scott added as he leaned in over Gordon’s shoulder to see what he could through the cloud.  
“Harder than you think, the plating on the bulkheads is double skinned over the locker compartments. We’re going to be ages cutting through to them!” Gordon frowned as he remembered the depth of metal that was between them and rescuing the crew.  
“See, I knew we needed you along!” Scott smiled. “What do you want me to do first?”

Their plan was to cut through the plating in the compartment below that which held the crew, allow it to flood and then cut a second hole in the internal bulkhead above, forming a dive hatch in the floor of the torpedo locker compartment.  
Once manoeuvred into the tight little gap that gave them access to the plating, Four made light work of cutting that first hole.

The dive across was more painful than Gordon would ever have admitted to, the pressure at 4000ft on his back was more than even he had expected, but he said nothing. He was finally out on a rescue, there was no way he was going to jeopardize continuing now he had started.  
Scott was close beside him, qualified or not at that depth, he wasn’t letting Gordon out of his sight. He’d manage with what qualification and training he had – ‘Flyboy Tracy’ - still flying by the seat of his pants - he just loved this job!  
Armed with enough breathers for the crew to transfer them back to Four, some would be sent up in dry tubes and the rest would travel up to the surface in Four herself.  
Now that the lower compartment was flooded, Scot and Gordon slid through the first hole in a glide, one after the other and began cutting the second hole. As the internal bulkhead plating fell away, they could see the crew, jubilant that they would now be rescued. The torpedo compartment was indeed air and watertight and the second hole worked perfectly as a dive hatch.  
The second to last crew member was just leaving to the safety of Four, when they heard tapping on the bulkhead beside them. For several minutes now, there had been some debate, some questioning, just how many crew were trapped in the Wayfarer, someone had miscounted heads on the surface. Now it seemed there may be one more still on the Wayfarer!  
Scott suspected that Gordon was tiring so took over cutting a third hole, as Gordon quickly explained what to expect. There were so many possibilities, so many differing scenarios.  
If water was behind this bulkhead to the next compartment and the additional trapped crew member, then they may experience a shift of the water, a violent shift downwards.  
If the compartment was not watertight, unlike the dry one they were in, then the shift would come upwards from below them and could be just as violent a surge.  
If the water could then go on to fill dry compartments further into the ship, then the flow of water could drag them further….  
“Okay, okay! I get the picture, Gordon, I understand, the water’s going to rush at us, from one way or another we’re…” Suddenly they were through and the water from below them rushed into the torpedo locker, filling it almost instantly then forcing on through the new hole, in the dark and noise, there was total confusion.  
Gordon, holding tight to the newly cut edge, his back twisted to tortuous levels of pain, felt an arm go past him and grabbed at it, a skinny arm, clad in wet cloth, he refused to let go despite yellow flashes of pain across his vision.  
The water kept forcing by.  
He dragged at the arm, knowing that the person on the other end had only minutes to live now they were fully submerged in the dark swirling waters. He was pulling himself then the arm through the third hole, down the blackness to the second and on to the first and the ocean. In the slightly better light, he found the arm belonged to a young ensign. Half drowned now, she clung desperately to her rescuer, clutching at his breather when it was offered and drawing in air before swimming on with him to Four. On board now, Gordon looked around, time for their own headcount.  
Where the hell was Scott?  
Scott was still in the maelstrom of the third compartment, pressed hard against the next bulkhead in, unable to pull himself free from the force of the water. His helmet light had been cracked and only flickered on occasionally. He could hardly breathe and there was something across his stomach that dug in so hard he was sure it had impaled him. But, worse than all of that in his own mind - he couldn’t see Gordon – his father was going to kill him. He struggled, pulling at the hard metal across him, trying to twist away from the force of the water, but aware too, that the water was going somewhere and he didn’t want to be flushed further into the ship and oblivion. The noise of the water was deafening, if the comms were working he wouldn’t know above the din.  
Desperate, he fought against the water, thrashing to be free until he could feel his own strength faltering. Shit, could this be it for him? Was Gordon already dead, would this be the end of International Rescue?  
The light flickered one last time and failed.  
In the darkness, sound all around him, he felt lost, he cried out, but no-one could hear him.

The hands that found him, found his feet first, he jumped at their touch, then he saw the light of Gordon’s helmet, he was speaking to Scott, clear slow words so that he would understand them. The soft brown eyes of his brother so intently watching him, so full of reassurance, but Scott was beyond these things, the pain in his stomach too intense, the pressure on his chest too much to bear.  
Washed by the torrent of water over him, Scott watched as Gordon pulled and pulled at the bar of metal across him, vaguely aware that his brother probably didn’t have enough strength yet for the job. But then it spun away, sending Gordon flying through the water, Scott was free but vulnerable to being swept away, further into the ship as it filled. Gordon had his wrist, Scott could feel it, but the force of the water was so great that he felt it slip and slip, until suddenly Gordon was around him, his legs tight about his waist, dragging them both towards the third hole. He had no idea how Gordon had the strength to take both of them but he was relieved beyond words that he did. Never again would he criticise his ex-WASP brother!  
Finally, out through the first hole, the cloud dispersing, Scott could see Four in the luminous water.  
Gordon was swimming easily now with Scott hugged tight into him as he pulled through the water.  
Laid on the only free space, the deck of Four, Scott let Gordon check his injury, the skin was broken where the metal had jagged in, but although it looked nasty, thankfully it certainly wasn’t fatal. There wasn’t really anything Gordon could do for him, bar packing the wound with a compress tightly. Gordon folded him into a soft blanket and gave him the first of the analgesic inhalers that Brains was so confident about. Gordon watched as Scott allowed himself to relax enough to draw on the inhaler and then to sleep.  
“Watch over me, huh!” Gordon smiled as he tousled his brother’s wet hair.

His father took him to one side, once they were all home and Scott was tucked up safely in the infirmary.  
“You did a good job today, son. I’m proud of you. ” Jeff placed an arm around his son's shoulders, drawing Gordon in close. “I’m sorry I doubted you were ready.” There was a moment when Gordon was conscious of his father’s emotions. Were they more than he could handle? Jeff faltered, then added. “If you hadn’t been there, then Scott...” Okay, so that was as far as he could go, Jeff’s emotions took over and suddenly Gordon was aware of just how much strength it must take to send your own children out to such dangerous work.  
“S’okay Dad, I understand now.”


End file.
